The Case of The Pegasus Mishap
by abbygail2002
Summary: The Atlantis Expedition is about to have an encounter with the world's only consulting detective.


I do not own Stargate SG-1, Stargate Atlantis or Sherlock.

* * *

**Prologue**

**London, England**

"The victim was discovered by teenagers," Greg Lestrade spoke as he led Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson into what was thought to be an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of London, "Jason Sims, 39 years old. Worked for a technology research company called Emmerich Tech."

"What kind of technology research?" John asked as Sherlock donned gloves and bent down over the body, "medical technology? Computer?"

"Not sure," Lestrade replied, "they seem to have their fingers in a lot of pies."

John looked over the body as Sherlock examined the victim's hands. It was obvious what the cause of death was: single shot between the eyes.

"The corpse was brought here from another location," Sherlock finally spoke, "there are fibres on his clothing, most likely from the vehicle he was put in." He pointed to the location of the fibres.

"Where did he come from then?" Lestrade asked.

"From his place of employment, obviously," Sherlock answered dryly.

"He could have been killed at home," John spoke.

"Unlikely. Can't you smell him?" John and Lestrade sniffed the air around the body as Sherlock continued, "that is the body odour of someone whom hasn't been bathed in days, not decomposition. The murder is too fresh for it. This man likes to keep up appearances. Nails are groomed, trimmed brows—it's consistent with someone who neglects hygiene. His clothes are wrinkled. If he cares about how he looks, he is going to care whether or not his clothes have been pressed."

John put on a pair of gloves and examined the body for himself, "Yep…maybe few hours old," he confirmed.

"I'll have forensics determine the exact time of death and have the body sent to Barts. And you might want to take a look at this," Lestrade said as he pulled an evidence bag from his coat pocket.

Sherlock took the bag, looking carefully at the item the bag held. The item was a greyish stone with strange markings and what looked like a form of language along the edge. A language that looked more futuristic than ancient or contemporary. The stone could have been some science fiction item carried by a science fiction fanatic. Sherlock somehow doubted that was the case. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. He rubbed his thumb over the markings, trying to get a feel of them through the plastic. Sherlock squinted as he examined the remarkable object.

"What do you make of it?" Lestrade asked, breaking Sherlock's intense study.

"I-I don't know..." He answered, brow furling. Nothing in his mind palace could bring up what kind of markings these were or even the language, "it's…intriguing."

"What? Something has Sherlock Holmes baffled?" John jokingly asked as he looked as closely at the bag in Sherlock's hand. As he looked, he could see why the detective was intrigued. If John Watson had never seen markings like that, surely Sherlock hadn't, right?

"Well, if you can't figure it out what it means, can I at least have it back?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock nodded in silence. The object had confounded him in the most unusual way. Something about it had more than confused him. It was the feeling he got from it. Nothing on this Earth had ever made him feel this way. Sherlock couldn't put a word to the feeling. He almost didn't want to give it back to the DI. Blinking and shaking his head, he hesitantly handed the bag to the waiting man.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" John asked, noticing his friend's strange demeanor.

"Yes! I'm fine!" He snapped, flipping the collar up on his Belstaff coat. With a billow of said coat, he hurried toward the exit.

"Off to Bart's?" John asked, trying to keep up.

"Emmerich Tech."

A

The sun had set when Sherlock and John returned to Baker Street. The flat was quiet as Mrs. Hudson was away for the night at her sister's house. Coming into the main room, the two men found Mycroft seated in John's chair, umbrella lying across his lap.

"Hello, brother dear," Mycroft greeted..

"Mycroft, what brings you here?" Sherlock asked sarcastically in return as he shed his coat.

"The case you are working on."

"It doesn't concern you."

"On the contrary, you are involved with it."

"Is this something new? Are you to interfere in _all_ my cases now?"

"When you are involved in a case that is over your head? Yes." Sherlock scoffed as he took up his violin and bow, running the bow across the strings with a horrid screech. "Sherlock, this is serious," Mycroft continued, "this isn't a matter of intelligence. You don't know what you are dealing with."

Sherlock shot Mycroft a look, "oh, Mycroft, you should know by now that I'm not going to quit a case like this."

"Yes and the last time you didn't listen me, you ended up murdering a man."

"Who needed to be done away with," Sherlock spoke calmly as he side-eyed John who had been quietly watching the conversion.

"This is more dangerous than Magnussen. I'm putting a stop to Scotland Yard's involvement in the case as well."

"Wow," John had finally spoke, "really?"

"Hm," Mycroft answered, "indeed. Molly no longer has the body either, Sherlock. Surely, you wouldn't want to put her into jeopardy? Or John for that matter?"

"They know the cost of being associated with me," Sherlock said coolly as if Mycroft's attempt to provoke sentiment in him would change his mind about the case. But really, it was a slight stab to his heart. They all knew what lengths Sherlock would go to protect those he loves. There was a tug of war between his heart and his head. His head wanted this case; his heart wanted to heed Mycroft's warning. This was the very reason he had wanted to avoid sentiment and attachments. Sherlock's coolness melted a little as he fiddled with his bow, staring out the window, "They also know that I will protect them."

"You won't be able to be a hero this time. Get out of it now while you have the chance."

"Who will take the case if Scotland Yard doesn't investigate it?" John asked, "if it's so dangerous, why sweep it under the rug?"

"The NID," Mycroft answered still looking at Sherlock, who whipped his head around to look at his brother.

"Who?" John asked.

Neither brother answered, but only stared at each other. Sherlock pressed his lips together. "Fine, I won't investigate it," the younger Holmes brother bowed in acquiesce.

John's jaw dropped to the floor. Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, never lets go of a case that he was already involved in. Not even at the request of his brother, the British government. This really must be a dangerous enough for Sherlock to relent.

"Good," Mycroft spoke as he rose from the chair and straightening his suit, a pleased smile across his face, "do give Molly my love. Good evening, John." And with that farewell, the eldest Holmes made his leave.

The shocked doctor shook his head, "Did I just you hear you say you back out of the case?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? I mean, you never do that."

"So?" Sherlock shrugged, putting down his violin and bow and slid a hand into his jacket pocket.

John's face was contorting with confusion, "what is wrong with you? Ever since you saw that stone you've been acting unlike yourself. And who the hell is the NID?"

Sherlock was silent, pulling an item out the pocket he had his hand in. Sitting down in his chair, he stared at the item, considering it.

"Is that what I think it is?" John asked, sitting down his chair. Indeed, it was a stone exactly like the one found at the crime scene, "how? Oh, never mind." He knew exactly what happened. Sherlock had stolen it from Jason Sims's lab _after _they had broken into it when Emerick Tech's CEO brusquely dismissed the two men. It was as if the man didn't care that a member of his staff had been murdered.

Sherlock had been in his mind palace while he studied the stone further. Connections had been made: The NID, the intriguing stone with the strange language, the odd behavior of the Emerick Tech CEO. Now, Sherlock thought about John and considered on whether or not to tell him what he know.

"The NID is a government organization that runs clandestine operations watching over top secret projects," Sherlock spoke softly after a moment, "I've had little dealings with them personally. But I knew enough to know that they would keep me from dismantling Moriarty's network. They warned me. I stayed under their radar and did the job myself."

"I didn't know the British government had an organization."

"It doesn't. It's an American organization."

"So, what? Are we talking about Baskerville type clandestine?"

"Oh no," Sherlock said with a small smile, "Baskerville is child's play. I doubt the NID would have very much oversight on that. If they do…they leave them to themselves. Oh! This is much bigger than Baskerville!" Sherlock tossed the stone in the air and caught it.

* * *

**AN: Did I just hint at the Trust being involved with Moriarty's Network? Perhaps. If it's so, the Trust had barely began to intermingle with the network when Moriarty blew his brains out. **


End file.
